The father kept saying it would be okay.
He said it quietly at first, like a reminder to himself. Then louder, like volume could make it true.
"It's fine," he said, hands gripping his wife's shoulders. "We'll figure it out. We always do."
She nodded too fast.
Their son stood a few steps away, staring at the ocean. He kept flexing his fingers, opening and closing them like he was testing whether they still belonged to him.
"Dad," he said, voice thin. "There's really no way back, is there?"
The father hesitated.
It was barely a pause. Most people wouldn't have noticed it.
Aiden did.
"No," the father said quickly. "They'll open something. This is just—this is just part of it."
The words sounded practiced. Recycled. Like something he'd heard before and held onto because it was familiar.
Around them, the beach was unraveling.
A woman ran screaming toward the water, shouting a name no one answered. Two men tried to restrain her, slipping in the wet sand as she fought like an animal.
Another group huddled together, arguing loudly—someone insisting they form a team, someone else accusing him of trying to take control.
A man sat alone, staring at his hands, whispering numbers under his breath like he was counting down to something that never came.
The creature in the water had stopped moving.
That was worse.
Its presence pressed down on the air, subtle but suffocating, like standing too close to the edge of something deep. People avoided looking at it now, instinctively turning their bodies away.
The father pulled his family closer. "We just need to stay calm," he said. "Panicking never helps."
The son laughed again—short and sharp.
"You're lying," he said.
The father flinched. "What?"
"You're lying," the boy repeated, louder now. "You don't know what to do. You don't have a plan."
The mother grabbed the boy's arm. "Stop it," she whispered. "Please."
"No," he snapped, shaking her off. "You're scared too. I can hear it in your voice."
She froze.
The silence that followed was louder than the screaming around them.
The boy looked at both of them, eyes wide and wet. "I don't want to be here," he said. "I don't want this."
None of them answered.
That was when it broke.
The boy stepped back, shaking his head. "This isn't real," he muttered. "This isn't real. If I just—if I just wake up—"
He turned and ran.
"Wait!" the father shouted, lunging forward.
The sand gave way beneath his feet.
The boy didn't stop.
He sprinted toward a cluster of rocks near the shoreline, tears blurring his vision. He didn't see the shallow drop. Didn't see the jagged edge beneath the water.
His foot slipped.
There was a sound—dull, wrong.
He fell hard, his body twisting as he hit the rocks. His head snapped sideways.
The scream that followed cut through everything.
People turned.
The father reached him first, dropping to his knees, hands shaking as he cradled his son's head.
Blood soaked into the sand.
Too much.
"No," the father whispered. "No, no, no—"
The boy's eyes fluttered. His mouth opened, trying to form words that never came.
The mother collapsed beside them, sobbing, hands hovering uselessly over her son's chest.
Someone shouted for help.
Someone else screamed that there was nothing they could do.
Aiden stood a short distance away, unmoving.
He didn't look away.
The boy's breathing stuttered once.
Then stopped.
The ocean remained silent.
The father stared down at his son's face, waiting for something—anything—to change. When it didn't, a sound tore out of him that didn't sound human at all.
It was raw. Broken.
The mother screamed until her voice failed.
People backed away slowly, horror spreading through the crowd like a stain.
"This can't happen," someone whispered. "You don't die like that in a game."
Aiden felt it settle then.
Not panic.
Finality.
People weren't just trapped.
They were fragile.
Behind him, a calm voice spoke.
"This is when it starts," Kael said.
Aiden didn't turn. "What does?"
"Reality," Kael replied. "When people realize pain doesn't reset."
The father rocked back and forth, clutching his son's body, whispering apologies to someone who couldn't hear them anymore.
Around them, the crowd began to change.
Some cried harder.
Some went silent.
Some looked at the ocean, then at each other, and something colder entered their eyes.
Aiden clenched his hands slowly.
This world didn't need rules yet.
It needed survivors.
And not everyone was going to be one.
End of Chapter 2